


summer wine

by princess_of_the_darkness



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Stoker (2013)
Genre: (if you can call it that), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, Consensual, Cunnilingus, Dark, Disturbing, F/M, Happy Ending, Incest, Mild Period Kink, Murder, Obsessive Behavior, Period Sex, Stoker (2013) - Freeform, Uncle/Niece Incest, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24702073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_of_the_darkness/pseuds/princess_of_the_darkness
Summary: She looks around. Sees a man standing nearby. He's tall and dark. She’s blinded by the sun behind him. It illuminates his body like it’s shining just for him.He’s watching. She watches back. He’s too far away to belong to the crowd, but something tells Rey that he would belong anywhere just fine.He doesn’t look like he’s mourning, all dressed in gray. Sunglasses over his eyes. She can’t see his face very well. He looks like her father, she thinks.He’s standing on top of someone’s grave. She’s standing next to her father’s.He raises a hand and lets it fall again. Rey doesn’t react.-Rey's father dies in a car crash. Her uncle Ben comes to stay with her and her mother. There's something dangerous lurking inside this family.Stoker (2013 movie) AU but no knowledge of the movie needed
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 52
Kudos: 95





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this. Stoker is one of my favorite movies and I just had to make this happen. You don't need to know the movie as this follows everything that happens pretty closely (except for a few tweaks and changes and, of course, the ending), but it does help in being prepared for everything that's coming. 
> 
> If you haven't seen the movie, just prepare for anything, honestly. (and maybe watch [the trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJWrXKoTpL0) to get a feel) This is very fucked up, but like, in a very aesthetically pleasing way. (And nothing bad happens to Reylo, I promise !!)
> 
>  ~~Is aesthetic incest a thing? That's the big question here.~~
> 
> The parts aren't 100% chronological in the same way that the movie isn't, so like... 95% chronological. It should be p clear what's happening, just the time between the breaks isn't always the same length. A lot of it is just, well, _scenes_ for the purpose of the same vibes as the movie. Some dialogue lines are borrowed, some are modified, but a lot of it is my own
> 
> This is in three parts: Parts one & two mostly follow the plot of the movie and part three is my own version of an ending.  
>  **Enjoy!**

She’s wearing her father’s belt, her mother’s blouse, the shoes that her uncle gave her. She’s made up of all the different people who had to die to get her where she is. 

It’s going to take a while before all the pieces fit together as a whole, before she can become her own person. Her innocence may be gone now, but she still has to come of age, truly. 

She smiles against the sun. She can’t wait to grow up.

\--

Rey’s dress is white and she’s running through the woods. She knows she’ll get it dirty, knows she will stumble and fall, roll around in the mud. The dress was expensive. She saw her mother put away the receipt. It doesn’t matter. It’s her eighteenth birthday and she can wear whatever she wants. 

Her feet hurt. The shoes are too small by now. But she never says anything, patiently waits for the next pair. And today is the day. 

She can hear the sounds of nature around her, acutely aware of every single crack and chirp and shuffle. It’s all so close, hugging her in a blanket of noise. She feels it becoming a part of her, so she runs faster and faster, reaches the edge of her garden in just a couple of seconds. 

She breathes in and out. In and out. Looks around, but doesn’t see him. 

He never drives out on her birthday. Unless this is part of the game. They’ve never talked about it, but that’s what makes it so good: He leaves the presents and she finds them. She always does. 

Like a magnet pulling her in, she rushes over to a tree she’s never noticed before. She scratches her leg on the bark when she climbs up, but there’s no blood. Nothing but a dull ache. 

The box is there, perfectly balanced on the highest branch. It looks like all the others before. Sharp, white, nondescript. The ribbons must be real silk. Rey doesn’t care for the packaging. She cares for what’s in it. 

But for the firs time, he’s managed to surprise her. 

No shoes. 

In the middle of the box there is a single key, old and rusty, ornate. Beautiful. 

She brings it to her lips and breathes against it. It smells like blood. She’ll wear it on a necklace, she decides. She trusts that it will make sense soon enough. 

When she jumps down, her dress flies up. The wind strokes over her thighs like a lover would. Rey doesn’t like to be touched. Nature is the exception. 

She lets her legs give in, sinks onto the mossy ground. There’s a pain in her chest, she realizes. Something must have happened. Something bad. 

Things are going to change. 

\--

A car crash. It feels mundane. Nothing but a figure in a statistic about road safety. 

Unreal is what it feels like. Or surreal, Rey isn’t too sure. All she knows is that it’s wrong. It should never have happened.

\--

Black doesn’t become her very well. She agrees to wear it anyway. Has to, out of _respect_. But she knows that he wouldn’t mind. He would want her to look her best. 

It’s the first time she’s been to a funeral. She doesn’t cry. The eulogy is too stiff. Artificial. Like her mother sobbing next to her. 

She looks around. Sees a man, standing nearby. He's tall and dark. She’s blinded by the sun behind him. It illuminates his body like it’s shining just for him. 

He’s watching. She watches back. He’s too far away to belong to the crowd, but something tells Rey that he would belong anywhere just fine. 

He doesn’t look like he’s mourning, all dressed in gray. Sunglasses over his eyes. She can’t see his face very well. He looks like her father, she thinks.

He’s standing on top of someone’s grave. She’s standing next to her father’s. 

He raises a hand and lets it fall again. Rey doesn’t react.

She turns to her mother. Still crying crocodile-tears, hand clutching the arm of someone Rey doesn’t recognize. She barely recognizes any of her father’s friends. It’s strange to think of him as someone who had a social life. To her, being a father was his only purpose in life. Now she knows better. 

When she looks again, the man is gone. She has a feeling he’ll be back. 

\--

The house is too full. All these voices, all the conversations that don’t mean anything. She tries to plug her ears, but she can’t stop listening. There’s a perverse satisfaction in hearing people talk about him as if they’d known who he was. Especially her mother. 

Rey doesn’t know what to do with herself. She goes downstairs and opens the piano. 

He’ll never hear her play again. He’s gone and she’s left without him. 

She swallows, brushes her hands over the keys from left to right. She starts playing, almost on autopilot. It’s a melody he liked to hum sometimes. It’s not loud enough to drown out her mother’s footsteps. 

“Rey?” 

She stops playing. Lets her shoulders drop. The sound is still echoing in the hall. 

“ _Please_.” She spins around on the bench, slowly. Doesn’t look at her mother. Waits for her to say something else. 

“Can you go help Mrs. Kanata with the food? Everyone’s here already.” 

Rey looks past her shoulder, watches the staircase. She doesn’t want to see the look on her face. 

“Rey, you don’t have to be like this. We can go through this together, you know?” She takes a step forward and Rey flinches. “This is just as hard for me, darling. We have to be strong for each other now. We’re the only family we have left.” 

Rey feels nauseous when she realizes she’s right. They’re all alone now. The house has always felt too big. 

There’s a sound, quiet but sharp, coming from underneath her. 

When she looks down, she sees a spider, thin legs crawling towards her shoes. She watches as it climbs up her feet and even further along her tights. 

She stands, looks at her mother. Her makeup is not even smeared from the crying. Rey bites the inside of her cheek and doesn’t say anything. 

She runs out of the room, too-small shoes _click-clack_ ing on the freshly waxed floor. 

\--

The hired servers talk about it. They think they’re quiet, that she can’t hear them. But the thing is, the thing has always been, that Rey can hear _everything_. 

She takes one of the eggs she’s supposed to peel, presses down so hard that it cracks. Puts her ear against the table and listens. 

She feels grounded by the soft _crrrrrrkrrrrrcrrrrrrkkrrrrr_ of rolling it around over and over again. 

“Still making a mess on my table, I see?” Mrs. Kanata’s voice is soft and quiet. Pitying. “And here I thought someone just turned eighteen.”

Rey shrugs and crosses her legs under the table. She rubs her shoes over the floor, trying to make her toes fit. 

“See? You’re a grown woman, already too big for your shoes. I would have thought you had new ones by now.” 

Rey raises her head and looks at her, frowning. “The box was empty,” she says. Mrs. Kanata shakes her head. 

“Maybe you should have looked closer.” Her smile is confusing. Rey opens her mouth, breathes in and out. 

“I found this.” She grabs at her necklace. The chain is so thin it’s almost invisible. She hides the key between her breasts. Mrs. Kanata nods. 

“I thought it was my father who left the presents for me.” She searches Mrs. Kanata’s face, but finds no reaction. “Now, I’m not so sure anymore.”

\--

Her heart rate speeds up when she hears him. 

It’s muffled, even to her ears, coming from the dining room. Rey is at the door in the blink of an eye. 

The room is bursting, people talking everywhere, stuffing themselves with their food. Someone laughs. Rey wants to throw up. 

She sees only his back, the gray blazer stretched over his broad frame and she swallows. Her mother is holding a glass of wine. Deep in conversation with him. 

He turns at the same times that her mother calls her name. The sunglasses are gone. Rey’s world stops for a second. 

“Come here. I want you to meet your uncle. Ben.” 

Her mother giggles when he says something that Rey can’t hear because she’s not listening. He’s standing close to her mother, close enough to whisper things into her ear. Rey watches him, tries to understand. 

She doesn’t have an uncle. He looks like a younger version of her father. 

He steps outside of her mother’s space and into hers. “Hello Rey.” His voice is smooth. Too much so. She doesn’t take the hand he’s holding out to her. Instead, she takes a step away from him. 

“She hates to be touched,” her mother says, pulling Ben back with a hand on his arm. She sounds apologetic and embarrassed. Rey wants to smile. She doesn’t. 

\--

“Is something wrong?” her mother asks, standing one step below her on the staircase. Rey stares at her. 

She’s tipsy. She looks comfortable. The host of a casual party, in the middle of the evening, taking a bathroom break. 

“Yes,” Rey says, as serious as she can. She waits a beat. “My father is dead.”

She doesn’t watch her mother’s face fall. She’s already running again.

\--

Eighteen boxes. White carton, blue ribbon. A pair of shoes in each of them. Except for the last. 

They’re all oxfords, white and blue leather. The shoelaces are soft, but always cut into her fingers when she tightens them. They’re the only shoes she needs.

She puts the boxes on her bed, one by one. Arranges them into a half-moon shape. Lays down in the middle of them.

She cries into her pillow, softly, soundlessly. 

She misses pair number eighteen. Misses it so much.

\--

The house is full of birds. Ones that she shot. 

Her father has taken her on hunting trips since she was a little girl. The dead animals have piled up. He’s kept every single one. 

She likes to walk around and touch them, trail her fingers over the lives she’s taken. It’s a rush she doesn’t understand. Not yet, at least. 

She knows she will, eventually. There’s a lot still to come. 

\--

The guests are whispering to each other, quiet and inconspicuous. But Rey can hear every word. They talk about her, about Ben. Someone else saw him at the cemetery. 

_Why didn’t he attend the ceremony? He’s not even wearing black. To his own brother’s funeral?_

_I heard he_ just _came back from Europe and heard the news._

_And poor Rey, I haven’t seen her all day. I hope this family can stick together through this. Deaths are always such a nasty affair._

Rey walks past the conversations. She takes two things from the hors d’œuvre platter, doesn’t look at them, just pops them into her mouth at the same timr. Bites down with a crunch. She tastes bread and cheese and salmon. It’s too much salt. She wants to spit it all out again. 

She looks across the table when she hears a sound. Ben is talking to Mrs. Kanata. Her face is colder than Rey has ever seen before. 

She turns to leave. He looks like he wants to say something, but then his eyes meet Rey’s and he smiles, Mrs. Kanata forgotten. 

Predator, her mind says. He looks like he wants to hunt her down for sport. Rey isn’t scared. She’s just never been on the other end of that.

She starts walking in the opposite direction. She knows she can get to her room without having to walk past him. 

She hears him move, not far behind. 

She walks faster and faster and faster. So does he. 

He’s almost close to enough to breathe down her neck when she reaches the door that leads to the patio. It locks from the outside. 

She rushes to the other door so she can walk back into the house. The night air is cool on her skin. The air inside is stuffy and smells like too many people at once. 

Rey sits down at the bottom of the stairs. She takes a few deep breaths. Then she hears footsteps at the top. 

It’s Ben. He’s just standing there, looking down at her with a smile. It feels eerie, him being so high above her. She stands up. 

“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here. You know why?” His voice is barely more than a whisper. 

Rey studies him. His hair is too long, his nose too big, his skin too pale. He’s very large. She doesn’t feel intimidated, refuses to. 

“Because I only met you today? Two hours ago I had no idea you existed.” 

He shakes his head with a laugh. His hair rocks with the motion. A black wave. 

“Because you’re standing below me.” 

He says it like it means anything. Like there’s something she should get but doesn’t. 

“You look like him,” she says with a frown.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t sound very sorry. 

“It’s your loss, too,” she says, because it’s true. But he doesn’t look like he’s mourning. He looks pleased. Loose and relaxed. Playful. 

Slowly, her eyes trained on his face, watching him watch her, she walks up step by step by step. When she reaches him, when they’re standing on the same level, he still towers over her. She pushes out her chin. 

He gives another smile in her direction and starts making his way down. 

Almost at the bottom, he turns back to her. 

“Oh,” he says, like it’s an afterthought. She knows it isn’t. “Your mother is going to tell you that I’m going to stay here for a while. Indefinitely. But I want you to know that it’s your decision, too.” 

He looks at her face and she can’t look away. “Why?” she says, eyes wide. 

“Because your opinion matters to me.” 

\--

He’s everywhere. The house and estate should be too big to keep running into each other over and over again, but. He seems to know where she is going. Always lurking right in her peripheral vision.

She sees him through the windows of her bedroom. He’s working in the garden, digging and cutting and watering. He barely breaks a sweat.

Rey just stands there, always watching him back. When he notices her, he grins. (She’s sure he knew she was there all along.) 

“It’s a nice day for some physical labor,” he shouts and pushes his hair out of his eyes. He should have a hair tie, she thinks. Keep it out of his face. 

She stays where she is, doesn’t move a muscle. His grin just grows bigger and bigger. If he tried, it could swallow his whole face. And hers, too. 

He points to the ground. “This soil is great for digging.” 

Then he goes back to work. She doesn’t leave her room for the whole day afterwards. 

\--

She wanders through the woods, barefoot. Her dress is white. The sun is shining. Sometimes she forgets that her father is dead. 

She’s just making her way back, when she hears them. Voices, fighting. 

It’s coming from the shed, the one that her father built. She hides behind a tree and watches. 

There’s a big glass window and they’re standing right behind it. Ben and Mrs. Kanata. 

“You don’t understand,” he says. 

“I’ve done everything. All the things you asked me to,” she says. 

“This isn’t easy to explain,” he says. 

“I’m saying I’m done with it. No more-” she says. 

Rey doesn’t stick around to hear the rest. Doesn’t think she would understand it anyway. When she comes back home, she puts on her shoes.

\--

She gets up early and makes coffee. One cup for herself. One cup for her mother. One cup for Mrs. Kanata, who isn’t there yet. No cup for Ben. 

Her dress is gray today. Her tights are white. It feels like a compromise. 

She takes her father’s old radio and hooks her cell phone to the speaker. Puts her music on shuffle and turns the volume up, up, as loud as it gets. 

She sits down in the kitchen and waits. Sometimes she feels like she doesn’t exist when there’s no one around her to see her. She’s always seen by someone. 

She pretends to read one of her father’s books. Her mother wakes in the afternoon. She takes the coffee and turns the music down. 

“Where’s Mrs. Kanata?” she asks and Rey looks up. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know anything. 

“Well, maybe she’s sick. I’ll have to call her tomorrow.” She looks down on Rey’s body. “What on earth are you wearing?”

“It’s my mourning attire,” she says, with a cruel little smile. “Did you know that in Victorian times, a widow was expected to mourn her husband for two years?” 

Her mother’s eyes are cold. Her mouth is a straight line. Rey tries to imagine her father coming home to that face, kissing those lips. She can’t. 

“Rey,” her mother says. She hates that. Hates how she always has to say her name like that. Like she doesn’t know she’s the one being spoken to. 

“You know that our relationship was-” She opens her mouth and hollows her cheeks, searching for the right words, “complicated. But I loved your father and he loved me. It wasn’t always as _cold_ as at the end.” 

Rey stays silent. 

“I think we should catch up a little. You and me. It was never easy between us and I know that part of that’s my fault, too. But I could never compete with him. You two were always going on your trips and you just- adored each other. I never saw any space I could occupy.” 

“Hmm,” she responds, not opening her lips. 

“What do you say, I get ready and we take a drive? We can go get some ice cream, just us girls. The weather’s perfect for a treat.” Rey looks her in the eyes and clenches her jaw shut. “It’s what your father would have wanted,” her mother says, desperate now. 

Rey feels nauseous. She gets up and tips the radio so it falls to the floor. It doesn’t break, just clangs. Her hand’s shaking when she walks out of the room with a bounce in her step. 

It’s the shoes. It’s getting harder to make her feet fit. 

\--

She watches them from the hallway. They’re walking to his car. Her mother is laughing, saccharine and false. 

Ben looks back at her as he’s opening the door. She’s stopped pretending not to be staring at him. 

He drives a convertible. Her mother’s hair is going to fly in the wind. She doesn’t dare think of her own hair flying in the wind. 

She runs up to her room and jumps on her bed. Rolls around in the sheets. Screams. 

She takes off her clothes and puts on a white dress. Brushes her hair, again and again and again and again and again.

eighty-nine  
ninety  
ninety-one  
ninety-two  
ninety-three  
ninety-four  
ninety-five  
ninety-six  
ninety-seven  
ninety-eight  
ninety-nine

She stops before she gets to one hundred. She’s alone, Rey realizes. 

She walks downstairs again and plays the piano. The metronome _ticks ticks ticks ticks ticks ticks ticks ticks ticks_. 

She gets up from the bench and runs up to the attic. Ben’s room. She can still hear the metronome from up here. It’s reassuring. 

His things are clean, pristine. His bed is made, looking better than hers. There’s a leather duffle bag at the foot. Rey falls to the floor in a fluid motion and opens it up. 

_Tick_

The first thing she finds is a flat rectangular case. Brown, like the bag. She unzips it and it falls open on her lap. There are maps with lots of lines and arrows, drawn in red. A passport that she doesn’t want to look at. Business cards over business cards. A stack of cash. Rey swallows. 

_Tick_

The next thing is a pair of sunglasses. She remembers him wearing them. The first time she saw him, the day of the funeral. A sick feeling settles in her stomach. 

_Tick_

She sees something white poking out of the bag and her heart stops. 

_Tick_

It’s a box. A white shoe box with a blue silk ribbon, tied into a bow at the top. There’s a note that says _Happy Birthday_. She knows the handwriting.

The ticking stops. They’re back. 

\--

The kitchen is big, but it feels crowded with all three of them inside. 

“Oh it was so nice, Rey. You really should have come with us instead of staying inside all day.”

She doesn’t say anything. 

Her mother laughs in Ben’s direction. “Your uncle is such a good driver. We took a little hike. And we ended up eating ice cream. He brought some for you.” 

She looks at Ben. He’s grinning. “Chocolate and vanilla. Did I get it right?” 

“I like the swirl kind,” she says instead, just to annoy him. But he doesn’t look annoyed. He looks even more pleased. 

“You can just make the swirls yourself, Rey.” Her mother frowns at her. “Don’t be so lazy.” 

Ben holds out two tubs to her. With a soft smile he says, “Would you take these down to the freezer, Rey? Please.” 

She does, even though she hates the basement. The light doesn’t travel between the lamps. She has to swing them if she wants to see where she’s going. 

She throws the tubs in the freezer. Right on top of countless bags of meat. 

She runs upstairs. Ben stands at the counter, a knife in his hand. It gleams in the light. Sharp and dangerous. Her mouth waters. 

“Cold?” he asks, his face unsure. She shakes her head. Leaves with a trail of her fingers against the countertop.

\--

They eat in the dining room. Ben made the food, meat with a sauce and vegetables. All food is the same, if you think about it. 

“Mhh, this is so good,” her mother groans, over the top. “Wait, you mentioned you learned to cook in France, didn’t you?” Rey thinks she sounds like a teenage girl, flirting with one of the popular guys at school. Her smiles are false, her lipstick a shade too red. She looks laughable. 

Ben’s not a schoolboy. He’s a predator in disguise. She wonders how long it will take her mother to realize what she’s doing. 

“In Paris, actually,” he says with a private smile, no pretense of modesty. “I lived very close to a renowned _brasserie_ and, uh, one thing came to another. Madame Pijourie was the strictest _and_ the loveliest woman I’ve ever met.” 

Her mother nods with a grin and takes another bite. “I wish I could see Europe,” she says while she swallows, washes it down with a sip of wine. “I speak French very well, you know. I just haven’t been.” 

“Maybe I’ll take you one day.” 

Rey looks closely at her mother, sees the second the blush takes over her cheeks. It’s the same color as her lipstick. Too dark, too much. Too heavy, cloying. 

“Rey, too,” he adds. She doesn’t want to look at him. 

“Oh, Ben,” her mother interrupts. “You haven’t even touched your food.” He shrugs. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to poison the both of us. Maybe you’re after the big fortune.” She giggles at her own stupid joke. She’s well on her way to being drunk. 

“’m not that hungry.” His eyes travel over to Rey. “But I see your daughter has wiped her plate clean. Almost licked it off, huh?” 

She looks down. He’s right. She didn't even notice she devoured the meal. _His food_. She shudders. 

“Would you like me to get you some ice cream? I did buy it for you.” His eyes seem to twinkle as he says it. She doesn’t understand. He’s sending her a secret message that she doesn’t want to decode. 

She shakes her head. 

Her mother sighs, heavy. “Rey, use your words. You’re not a child.” 

“No, thank you,” she says and lifts the corners of her lips into a smile. It’s exaggerated and so, so stupid. But Ben grins at her. 

“Why didn’t you tell me I had an uncle?” The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them. Her mother shoots Ben a look, apologetic. Rey hates it. She’s always being excused for something or other. 

“I didn’t really know about him myself,” her mother says, slow and deliberate. She thinks she’s talking to a child. Rey crosses her arms. “He was always busy traveling the world, your father barely talked about him.” She looks at him, again. This time it’s warm and intimate. “But I’m glad he’s here now. Family should stick together.” 

After that, she gets up. Mumbles something about a red wine headache and leaves the room.

Rey still doesn’t want to look at him. She takes the wine bottle and rolls it around on the table. It makes a _slosh slosh slosh_ and a _rrrrrrrrghhhghhghhhhgh_. She lets herself get lost in it. 

He makes her stop when he says, “1994. The year you were born.”

She doesn’t say anything back. After a couple of seconds, she looks up at his face. 

His eyes are violent, focused on her face alone, nothing else. They’re filled to the brim with dynamite. 

He moves a hand over to his wine glass. Starts pushing it towards her plate. It slides over the wooden table in an amalgamation of sounds. 

She looks at it, studies it for a beat. Then she turns it around, slow and deliberate. The part of the rim that he drank from is pointing to her now. She looks at him, holds it up to watch the wine make waves that smash against the glass. She raises it to her lips. Takes a sip. 

His tongue darts out for a second. It doesn’t taste like anything. Only heavy. 

She puts the glass down with a _thud_. “What do you want?” she asks, and crosses her feet underneath the table. 

“I want us to be friends.” His voice is sincere. And yet, she doesn’t believe a word he’s saying. 

“We don’t need to be friends,” she says with a frown. She leans forward in her seat and pushes the wine glass back to its original place. “We’re _family_.” 

\--

They’re supposed to paint a vase full of flowers. 

Rey doesn’t get good grades in her art class. What she gets are pick-up lines, stupid jokes about her dead father, and a paintbrush in her face. 

Finn doesn’t know when to stop. He thinks it’s funny because she never does anything. All his friends do, too. They don’t understand her. Don’t see that she doesn’t react because she’s in anticipation. Waiting for her anger to boil over one day. 

She knows the time will come. Can already taste the satisfaction on her tongue. She continues with her own painting. 

They’re supposed to paint a vase full of flowers. Rey paints nothing but the pattern on the inside of the vase. When class is over, her whole canvas is soaked with it. 

\--

He’s waiting for her after school. Leaning against his car, sunglasses over his eyes. The girls around her swoon when they spot him. Everybody asks who he’s here for. 

Rey pretends not to see him. She crosses the street to get to the school bus. 

She always sits next to the window. Always on the left side. Today, she feels watched. 

She asks the girl next to her for a mirror and holds it against the glass. 

He’s driving in the lane to their left. He takes one hand off the wheel and waves. She closes the mirror with a _snap_.

\--

He’s still following her when she gets off at her stop. 

He drives slowly, gives her enough space to walk along the dirt road that leads to the house. 

Once she’s inside, she runs up to her room and locks the door. 

\--

One day, Ben stops her when she’s on her way out. 

“Here,” he says. Holds out an umbrella. 

It’s blue, like the ribbon on her birthday presents. She doesn’t take it. 

“It’s going to rain,” he says. “You’re going to need it,” he says. 

She sees it again when she comes home, soaked. It’s hanging from one of the bars of the gate. Taunting her. 

She walks past it, goes inside. 

She’s dripping water all over the tiles. Her hair is hanging into her face in one clump. She hears the laughter right away. 

Her mother and Ben are sitting at the piano, pressed so, so close on the bench. Rey swallows. 

She can see his hand flailing about, touching keys at random. Her mother laughs, loud and hollow. Rey clears her throat. 

Her mother spins around. She looks surprised to see her. She recovers in a second. “I’m teaching your uncle to play the piano.” 

Something stirs inside of Rey’s chest. It feels ugly and delicate. 

“I’m not very good, I’m afraid,” he says, without turning to her. 

Her mother shoots him a look and her face softens. “You should get out of those things, Rey. You’ll catch a cold.” 

Rey leaves. She hears Ben whisper, “I _told_ her to take an umbrella.”

\--

She’s sitting in the grass outside. It’s warm enough that she doesn’t have to wear tights. Her dress is unbuttoned at the top. 

She’s reading _Frankenstein_. It’s her father’s edition. There are little gray pencil annotations everywhere. 

Sometimes he’s circled a word or a phrase. She always leans down to drop a kiss on those spots on the page. 

She hears her mother’s shoes before she can see her body blocking the sun. 

Rey looks up. For the first time in all her life, her mother is dressed in all white. She’s holding a tennis racket in her hands. 

“Your uncle cleaned the court,” she smiles down at her. “I haven’t played in so long. Why don’t you come watch us? Maybe even play a game or two.” 

Rey shakes her head and goes back to her page. She’s already lost the passage she was on. 

“See, I told you they’re too big,” Ben shouts and jogs over to them. “I had to take one of his belts, too.” 

Rey’s eyes fly up on their own. There it is. Soft brown leather, wrapped around a white pair of her father’s shorts. They’re too big on him. So is the shirt he’s wearing. Rey can’t look away. 

Her mother is already walking past her. 

“Have fun reading,” Ben says to her and follows. 

She never ends up finding the passage again.

\--

The door bell rings. She hears her mother rush to open it. Then silence.

“Oh.” 

“I’m too late for the funeral, I know,” a male voice says. Laughs awkwardly. “But I thought it would be a good idea to visit anyway. See how things are going right now. With you and Rey here, all alone. Thought I might help out where I can.” 

She steps into the hallway and sees him. Uncle Luke. 

\--

“When are you leaving again?” her mother asks, cold. 

Rey almost wants to kick her in the shin. She’s so rude. She thinks it’s nice of Luke to take off time from work to check in with them. She hasn’t seen her great-uncle in years.

“I’m not too sure yet,” he says, smiles, and helps himself to another serving of mashed potatoes. “I really want to see for myself that you’re all okay. It’s a tough time.” 

Her mother winces. Nods. “We’re very lucky that Ben’s just returned from Europe, though.” She takes his hand and squeezes it. Then once more, but softer, subtle. Only Rey can tell. “He’s been such a help.” 

“Europe?” Luke asks with a frown. 

The air grows thick and heavy in a matter of seconds. 

Ben raises his eyebrows and reaches over for the bottle of wine. His arm gets very close to Rey’s face. She thinks she could bite into it. Wouldn’t even have to move much for that. She imagines what he would taste like. 

“Well,” Luke licks his lips. “Anyway.” He shoves a forkful into his mouth. Waits until he’s finished chewing before he says, “I gotta be honest with you here. I’m a little _concerned_ about this situation. You, living here. Like this. With Benjamin.” He sighs. “I’d like to talk to you in private. About some things you might not be aware of. I know it’s none of my business, really, but I just-” 

Her mother hits the table with her hand. 

“No, _Uncle Luke_ , it really is none of your business.” She sounds mad. Rey watches her closely. 

“I’m well aware of the fact that you never really approved of me entering this family and that’s fine, I don’t need your approval. Your nephew and I loved each other very much and he has unfortunately, tragically, passed away. What I don’t need right now is you coming into my house and making bizarre accusations.” She stops. Her face is flushed. She reaches for her glass and takes a sip. “I need time to mourn my husband. In my own way.” 

\--

“What hotel are you staying at?” Ben asks when they walk Luke out to the taxi. It’s found its way past the dirt road, parked right in front of the gate.

“The _Millennium_?” he says. He doesn’t sound sure. Ben nods and smiles. 

“I really wish you could stay here,” Rey whispers when Luke drops a kiss on her head. “It was nice to have you over.” 

Luke looks apologetic. He’s kneading his hands together. Nervous. Almost frightened.

“I’ll be back,” he says. He reaches into his pocket and pushes something into her hands. “If anything’s up, you can always contact me.” 

\--

She folds it open when she’s in her room. 

_CALL ME_ , it says. 

_IT’S ABOUT BEN_

Underneath, there’s a cell phone number. 

\--

Rey has a sudden craving for ice cream after Luke is gone. 

She makes her way down to the basement once more, without even thinking about it. Scoop in one hand and a cone in the other. 

The tubs are where she put them, on top of bags and bags and bags of meat. She takes them out and fills her cone: a big scoop of vanilla and a big scoop of chocolate. 

She sinks to the floor next to the freezer, leans her knees against it. 

It’s delicious. She eats and eats and eats. 

She can hear her mother moving around upstairs, then the phone is ringing. It just keeps on 

_Ring_

_Ring_

She takes a bite of her cone. 

_Ring_

And another, and another. 

_Ring_

She sucks the rest of the melted ice cream out of the bottom. 

_Ring_

She stands, opens the freezer to put the tubs back. 

_Ring_

She’s in the middle of closing the lid when she thinks she sees something. She frowns.

_Ring_

She lets the ice cream fall and pushes the meat to the side. 

_Ring_

She swallows. The lifeless face of Mrs. Kanata stares at her. 

She stares back until she can’t hear the ringing anymore. 

\--

Rey spends all day at school sharpening her pencil. Turning it over and over and over and over again. She’s only satisfied when she’s sure that one more turn would make the graphite break off. 

She runs it over her fingers. Smooth but pointy. Sharp enough, hopefully. 

When she walks out of the building, she sees him sitting in the grass next to the sidewalk. Finn.

She slows down, lets herself be noticed. Someone makes a joke about her mother. Finn must have heard about her uncle being in town. He says something lewd and uncalled for.

She turns her head and just looks at him, eyes dead and unblinking. 

“What?” he asks when she takes a couple of steps towards him. “You think a little girl like you can take me?” 

When she doesn’t react, he holds out his hands, motions to his friends. “See?” He laughs. 

She takes the pencil and rams it into his palm. 

He screams. 

And bleeds. 

And calls for his friends. 

She slips the pencil back into her pocket. She didn’t fully think this through, she realizes. His friends are getting up. Coming her way. She steps back. 

Then there’s a body in front of her. Poe Dameron, coming to her rescue. “Back off, guys,” he growls. He’s a big enough deal, apparently. They flip him off and drag Finn towards the street. 

Poe smiles at her. It looks charming like everything he does. But so very calculated. He wants her to like him and she knows it.

She gives him a nod in response. 

\--

She lies on her bed at home. She’s stabbed a boy today. 

She pulls the pencil out of her pocket and searches for the sharpener in her bag. She doesn’t want to leave the blood on it. 

She watches, enamored with how the red clings to a single one of the shavings. 

She remembers how it felt to plunge it into Finn’s skin. How it broke through the layer, how it stuck, how it- 

She hears Ben’s voice in her head. 

_Would you take these down to the freezer, Rey? Please._

He smiles at her. 

_Cold?_

His eyes look at her. Letting her in on a secret. 

_Would you like me to get you some ice cream? I did buy it for you._

He stands on someone’s grave, wearing her father’s sunglasses.

_Mrs. Kanata’s head._

Rey watches as they fight in the shed. She doesn’t stick around to see anything. 

_Finn screaming when she punctures his skin._

Rey closes her eyes and falls back against her pillow. 

\--

She’s sitting in front of the piano. 

Her fingers touch the keys, softly, one by one. A caress. Then she starts playing. 

Suddenly, there’s a body standing beside her. She looks up at him for a second, frowning, and speeds up. 

Ben’s hands join hers, slowly at first. She wonders how she’s never noticed. Of course he knows how to play. His fingers so long, palms so wide. His hands were made to play the piano. 

He gains speed as well and sits down on the edge of the bench. His hip pushes her further to the side. He’s trying to get to the pedals. 

Rey’s legs cross, entirely on their own, and her feet slide upwards. She can’t help it. The friction, the closeness. It’s making her ache, pulsate. Clench. 

She pants. Keeps playing. 

He sneaks a hand around her to reach the high notes. Her back is pressed against his chest. If she leaned back, she could put her head on his shoulder. But she doesn’t. 

She sits straight and plays and plays and plays and plays. He smells warm. Like wood and nature. Like home. She wants to moan. 

From time to time, Rey masturbates only by humping a pillow. Sometimes bare, sometimes with her clothes on. She’s become good at coming without using her hands. 

Ben leans forward and immediately back again. He’s pushing and pulling her with him every time he presses a key. It’s not enough, she realizes. It’s not going to be a good orgasm. Not like this. But she can feel herself getting close to the edge nonetheless. 

He’s done with the high notes. Removes his arm from her side at just the right time. 

Rey comes silently and with desperation. 

They finish it together. She can tell he looks smug. 

The last note rings out. They’re _so close_. She can smell his breath, minty and clean. 

Rey closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

She opens them again and when she turns her head, she finds nothing. He’s gone. 

\--

Rey wakes to loud music playing downstairs. 

_Strawberries cherries and an angel's kiss in spring  
My summer wine is really made from all these things _

It’s late. She can’t see anything outside her window. Except darkness. 

She creeps down the stairs. Careful not to let her shoes make a sound. The house is dark downstairs. No lights turned on. It feels uncanny. 

They’re in the living room. She hears her mother moving around, laughing. Ben is quiet. 

“I’m just saying, you know,” she says and takes a sip from her glass of wine. 

Rey hides behind the curtain that separates the room from the hall. She slows down her breathing. Remembers all her hunting lessons. 

_Don’t let the prey know you’re there._

“It’s just really, really nice.” She’s already slurring a little. Having fun. 

Ben looks relaxed, too. His hands fill out the pockets of his slacks. If she didn’t know better, Rey would say he looks soft. 

“Well, you’re welcome,” he says and smiles at her mother. “It’s my pleasure, honestly.” She giggles. 

“I believe you, you know.” She takes a step towards him, swaying to the music. 

“At first I wasn’t sure if I should. You’re very charismatic, Ben.” He grins. “And usually, that’s a bad thing. But you’ve been nothing but kind to us.” Her face draws together and she swallows. Her bottom lip starts to tremble. 

He rushes forwards, takes her hands in his. Moves them into position. Starts pushing, pushing, pushing, until she understands. 

He shoots a glance in Rey’s direction. Not sure if he’s seen her or not, she draws back further into the shadows. 

They dance, awkwardly at first. Then he spins her around. Her mother almost falls over from laughing so hard. 

Rey wants to throw up. 

Ben stops and pulls her close to him. Her body is still in motion and she bumps into his chest, quietly. 

Their faces just inches apart. 

“I know you’re his brother,” she whispers. Rey breathes in and holds it. “But I’ve decided that I don’t care who you are.” She nods to herself and looks up at Ben. 

He grins. “Me neither.” He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and lets his hand fall down to her hip again. 

“No?” she asks. There’s so much hope in her voice. Adoration and hunger and lust and want and just plain old affection. Rey’s really feeling nauseous now. 

Ben shakes his head. “I don’t care who I am, either.” 

Rey can see her mother frown at that. But then, Ben moves them around again. Rey only gets a view of her back now.

She slides her fingers up to his neck and pulls him down for a kiss. 

But Rey can only look at Ben. He’s sliding his hand up again, strokes her mother’s breast, softly. His eyes are wide open. 

And he’s looking straight at Rey. 

For a second, she’s frozen in place. Then she turns around and starts running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is the piano scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZz7KZ5DucE)   
>  ~~according to IMDb, the foot thing was Mia Wasikowka's idea to show that India has an orgasm, so I'm assuming that she has one during the scene, but obviously it's more of an implied thing than anything else~~


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts off a couple of days after the end of Part One. Just so there's no confusion. 
> 
> Also, I don't want to spoil anything, but trigger warning: There's some non-con kissing and attempts to go further than that (not between Reylo!) and also some rape-y language, so... be aware I guess

Rey doesn’t look where she’s going. It’s dark already. The woods creak and crackle around her. She feels hollow. The noise takes control of her body, leads her further and further. She can only follow. 

One foot in front of the other. 

She’ll have blisters when she gets home, she thinks. Maybe she’ll go out and buy a new pair of shoes. Or maybe there’s a pair waiting for her in a brown leather duffle bag. 

She doesn’t think about that. 

She slows down. Lines up her steps. She feels like she’s walking on a tightrope, sets the heel of one foot just millimeters in front of the toes of the other. One step at a time. 

She can balance herself just fine. Has been doing it all her life. But there’s a pit waiting below her. She knows she’ll fall, sooner or later. 

She just doesn’t know what’s lurking at the bottom, waiting for her. Or who.

\--

She reaches a path that leads out of the woods.

At the end, there’s the parking lot of a diner. 

She’s heard of it. It’s a place where kids at her school go to when they want to get drunk and hook up. She’s never been inside. 

Rey looks around, but doesn’t see anything else. She heads straight towards the diner. 

There are motorcycles parked in front of a neon sign that says 

_BURGERS  
SHAKES  
ICE CREAM  
PIZZA  
FRENCH FRIES_.

Rey watches it blink. Listens to the electric sizzle that some of the letters make. They flicker, on and off. The As in particular. 

They _szzzzszszzszszzszzs_ every three seconds. The wind rushes around her ears. Somewhere, an owl hoots. Rey closes her eyes and listens. Holds her breath. Just listens.

It’s stupid to advertise like this, she thinks. With a big sign that doesn’t even work properly. It’s the only diner in town. Where else are you going to eat all that? They must have menus inside anyway. 

The distinct feeling that she’s being watched settles in her throat. She opens her eyes again to find Poe Dameron standing next to his motorcycle. 

He studies her. Then he turns to his friends. They’ve started to put on their helmets, in the process of leaving. They’re all wearing leather jackets and jeans. 

Ben only wears slacks and cashmere sweaters. 

“I think I’ll stay a bit longer,” Poe says. Grins when one of his friends whistles. There’s something wolfish about him, Rey thinks when she walks closer. She stops and waits, a few feet away from him. 

“See you tomorrow,” he shouts as his friends drive away. He waits a second, hangs his own helmet on the handlebars. Slides off the seat. 

She stands there and looks at him. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Strolls, casual and cool, until he’s right in front of her. 

Her dress is sleeveless, but she’s not cold. Her blood is simmering. She’s preparing for something. 

“Rey.” He doesn’t sound surprised. He sounds pleased. Excited. 

He licks over his lips and runs a hand through his hair. It looks good. He’s attractive, Rey decides. She’s never thought about him like that before. 

“Wanna go inside?” He tilts his head in the direction of the diner. His mouth forms another grin, easy. Deceiving. 

She considers it for a moment. Throws a glance at the neon sign. It’s still flashing. She reads

 _ICE CRE M_.

“I’ve never been here,” she says. Looks into Poe’s eyes. 

He nods, slowly. Takes her in. 

His eyes fly over her bare arms, linger on her chest where she can feel the key burning a hole into her skin. His eyes glow with desire. 

Rey turns around and walks back into the woods.

\--

She walks slowly, cautious. He’s right behind her.

It makes her feel like a siren. Her white dress is bait, illuminating the path to destruction for him. She’s just not sure how she wants to go about it. What the ruination is going to look like. Not yet at least..

He’s loud, stepping on every dead twig his feet can find. Rey knows how to be quiet in the woods. She was born for this.

She starts walking faster, but he catches up with her, easily. The moonlight looks good on his skin.  
A handsome young man.

\--

She takes him to a playground in the middle of a clearing. It’s one of her favorite places.

He laughs when they get there, open and honest. The first genuine reaction she’s seen from him. 

“I gotta say,” he starts, and bumps his hip into hers. He’s being playful. Testing the waters, seeing how far he can go. “I never would have expected this from you.” 

She frowns. 

“Hanging out at a _parking lot_? Looking like that? God, Rey.” His voice sounds strange.

She shrugs, not sure what else to do. 

“You’re just acting so different. From the way you are at school. Always such a prissy little thing, aren’t you?. Untouchable. _Pure_.” He leans closer, whispers the last word against her hair. She’s glad that she’s wearing it open. A protective curtain. 

She takes a step away from Poe and looks at him. He looks back, curious.

Her eyes land on the swing behind him. She’s on it in a matter of seconds. Holds onto the chains and pushes herself off the ground with all the force she can muster. 

She swings.

 _Back and forth._

Like a pendulum. 

_Back and forth._

“Have you ever looked at a photograph-,” she shouts into the night.

 _Back and forth._

“of yourself”

 _Back and forth._

“and it just-”

 _Back and forth._

“it’s an angle you’re unfamiliar with?”

_Back and forth._

“Sure”, Poe says. His arms are folded in front of his chest. He’s confused. And amused.

 _Back and forth._

“So you look really close,” Rey continues. 

_Back and forth._

“You try to see yourself in the picture,”

 _Back and forth._

“try to understand how it can be you.”

 _Back and forth._

“How it’s the same person”

 _Back and forth._

“that you look at in the mirror every day.”

 _Back and forth._

“And what you realize is-”

 _Back and forth._

“There are so many different versions of you.” 

_Back and forth._

“All existing at the same time.”

 _Back and forth._

“This is just another version of me.”

She jumps down and _runs_. She knows he’ll follow her.

\--

She doesn’t know who starts the kiss. It might have been her. She can be bold sometimes.

His lips are rough, but gentle. She can’t decide if she likes it or not.

Poe doesn’t taste of anything but spit. His tongue is wet and alien. 

His hand grabs at her hips, clenches her dress. She takes it and moves it higher and higher. Up to her left breast.

He lets it rest there. Just keeps on sucking on her lips. Frustrated, she puts her hand on top of his and _pushes_ his fingers into the fabric. 

She gasps. Imagines what it would feel like if his hands were bigger. 

In a split second she decides to bite down. Sinks her teeth straight into him. 

Immediately, she can taste blood in her mouth, metallic and thick. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he shouts and pushes her off him. “Goddamn.” He brings a hand to his lip and looks at his fingers. 

She presses her hands to her sides, frozen. 

“I guess it’s true what they say then,” he laughs with a shake of his head. Rey tries not to listen to him. She doesn’t want to know what anyone says about her. It doesn’t work.

“You’re fucking crazy, huh?” 

She swallows. She feels cold now. The woods have stopped being comforting. 

“I think I want to go home now,” she says. Her voice sounds wrong to her own ears, wobbly and fickle. On the verge of breaking. 

“No,” Poe says. Cold. There’s a mean glint in his eyes. He takes a step closer.

\--

His lips are on hers again. There’s nothing gentle about it anymore. He makes noises into her mouth that she doesn’t like.

She struggles, pushes him away. It’s not very far. 

“Stop,” she pants. 

“No, Rey.” He grins. He looks mean. She can see a speckle of blood on his front teeth. 

“You started this.” He fists a hand into her hair. “And you’re gonna finish it, too. There’s no backing out now.” 

He presses his body against hers to kiss her again. She raises a hand and slaps him across the face. The _smack_ rings out around them. 

He curses, but his feet stay planted. He holds his cheek, winces. 

She tries to get farther away from him. 

He grabs at her with his free hand. Makes a fist and punches her in the stomach. 

The pain comes in an instant. It spreads out, travels in blunt waves across her body. She feels it everywhere. 

Poe grips her arm and throws her on the ground. The impact makes everything worse. There are little rocks digging into her back. The soil is dirty. Rey feels the same.

“Look at you begging for it,” Poe says, above her. He sneers. 

His fingers fly to his belt. Open up the buckle. He pulls down the zipper. 

Rey tries to get up, but he pushes her down with his foot. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this for so long.” 

She doesn’t know what to do, can’t move. Her mouth doesn’t open. Her eyes are wide.

“I’m so glad I’m the one who gets to ruin you,” Poe whispers and leans down to her. 

This time, she doesn’t hear him coming until he’s already reached her.

\--

She watches as Poe’s pants slide down his legs and he comes closer and closer.

Then there’s a _crunch crunch crunch crunch_. Heavy breathing. The sound of another belt buckle being opened. 

It happens so fast. Rey doesn’t have time to digest it. 

She blinks and then Ben is behind him. Her father’s belt in his hands. He wraps it around Poe’s arms. Pulls, pulls, pulls. 

Rey jumps up and scurries away from them.

Ben throws him on the ground, careless. It makes a dull sound. Poe screams in pain. 

Ben kneels down on his back. Slides off Poe’s own belt and fastens it around his legs. 

He looks up at Rey with a grin. “It’s a good thing I’m wearing your father’s belt,” he says. Calm. “Mine would have been too short.” 

She watches as he kicks the bundle away from him. Towards her. 

“He’s all yours,” he says and pushes his hair out of his face. He’s sweating a little bit. 

She looks down at Poe, tied up. He’s thrashing, rolling around on the ground. 

Rey takes a breath. Steps closer to him. 

Ben is leaning against a tree now. He looks eager. Almost aroused. She decides to make this worth his while. 

Grunting with every kick, she lets her left foot fly against Poe’s stomach. Over and over and over again. It makes flat pounding sound. 

_thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump_

She gains momentum each time. It’s thoughtless and sloppy. It drowns out his cries. She doesn’t care where she hits him. Just follows her instinct. 

She feels manic. It’s a new kind of thrill. A thousand times better than pulling the trigger on a rifle. 

She’s not in control anymore. And for the first time in her life, she doesn’t mind. 

She feels Ben’s eyes on her. He’s a spectator at a show. Patiently awaiting the audience participation portion. 

“Stop,” Poe whimpers. His face is caked with mud and tears. 

He didn’t stop when she told him to. 

Rey turns to look at Ben.

\--

She wishes she had a jacket.

The silence between them feels heavy and serious. Appropriate. 

She doesn’t ask Ben for his sweater. 

He’s wearing a white shirt underneath it, the collar pokes out at the top. It’s completely stained by now. 

Her legs are coated in dirt, too. Brown and flaky. She doesn’t want to look at her shoes. There’s no part of her dress that’s white anymore. 

He leads and she follows. It’s good that way. Her mind is frazzled. She doesn’t think she would find the way on her own. 

One foot in front of the other.

\--

It’s the first time she’s in his car. It smells dusty. But in a comfortable way.

Rey can’t think straight. 

Ben looks good, driving. His long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. He looks at home. In control.

She can’t take her eyes off of his hands. His grip is firm. He’s paler than normal. 

He doesn’t look at her. She wouldn’t want him to. Her cheeks are dirty. Her hair is a mess. 

She’s never felt more alive.

\--

She runs upstairs and locks herself in the bathroom. Her thoughts are foggy, clouded. Nothing coherent is forming in her brain.

Rey fingers with the buttons and lets her dress drop to the floor. The woods are still with her. Everything is sullied. More than anything, she herself. She feels debased, corrupted. 

She tries to smile. She doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror. 

The girl staring back at her is someone else. This Rey is still innocent. A child. One who hasn’t been in the real world before. 

There’s little bits of dried leaves stuck in her hair. Her eyes are stormy. She is wild and she is untamed. She has to be reckless now. 

Today, she was released. From a prison she wasn’t aware of. 

She turns on the shower.

\--

She waits for the stream to get hot before she steps inside.

The tension leaves her body. Her shoulders droop. She steadies herself with a hand against the tiles. 

Takes a deep breath. Holds it. Releases it. Repeats. 

The memories rush back to her as the water runs over her back. 

_Poe’s lying on the ground, tied up. Screaming. He looks at her with a sort of primal fear in his eyes. She smiles. Waits for Ben to step forward._

She sighs and rubs a hand over her face. It’s still not clean. Her arms ache.

_Ben loosens the belt._

_Poe knows that it’s the only chance he will get. He robs and robs, stretches, desperate. He reaches her ankle with one of his hands. Pulls, with all his strength._

_She stumbles, falls again. Frozen, she waits._

_He manages to crawl on top of her._

_But Ben is faster. The belt is around Poe’s throat in a matter of seconds._

She can feel her eyes starting to water. Lets the tears fall. 

She sobs into the smooth tiles. 

_She can’t move. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is open._

_Poe is a heavy weight on top of her, but she’s not scared._

_She watches as Ben pulls. Tighter and tighter and tighter._

_If his sleeves were rolled up, she could see the muscles in his arms move. He’s panting._

_She hears the sound of leather sliding over skin. Feels Ben put his foot on Poe’s back, so he can put more strength into it._

_She’s grounded. Lying there, both participant and observer at once._

Rey reaches for a bottle of shampoo. She needs to take care of her hair. 

_She couldn’t describe the sound that his neck makes when it gives in. He’s still looking at her face when his body falls. Completely on top of her now._

_She only has eyes for Ben._

It feels good to run her fingers over her scalp. Reminds her that her senses still work. 

She’s alive. Poe is not.

_Ben carries the body on his shoulder. He wrapped it in a blanket, old and dirty, taken from the trunk of his car._

_She refuses to look at it as she follows him back through the woods._

_He lifted Poe like it was nothing. She’d felt like his weight was crushing her._

The water that pools at her feet is disgusting. She doesn’t feel clean. Wonders if she will.

_They’re in the car. Soundlessly, she says, “Thank you.” Mouths it, careful not to look at him._

_She knows Ben will hear it loud and clear. He doesn’t react. He’s focused on the road._

\--

Rey thinks about getting out of Ben’s car. Following him to the garden.

He handed her a shovel. 

He was right. The soil is perfect for digging. 

Days ago, she sat outside and called Luke’s number. It was soft at first, distant. So she leaned down, pressed her face against the ground. There was a ringing coming from beneath the earth.

She moves one hand between her legs. Starts rubbing at her thighs, strokes over the skin, slowly. But with a purpose. 

She thinks of Poe, of his weight on top of her. 

She pushes two fingers inside the wetness of her cunt. Grinds against her wrist.

She remembers how it felt, his body going slack. How his breathing stopped. How the light disappeared from his eyes. His head dropped onto her chest. 

She’s stroking her thumb over her clit now. Her other hand is glued to the tiles, still. 

She hears the sound of the belt. Speeds up, desperate now. 

Rey drops her face on her arm, pants against her skin.

She sees Ben above her, straining to pull the belt tighter. His eyes pierce through her. 

He looks mighty. Out of this world. He deserves to be watched from below. 

He’s ruthless in everything he does. He won’t cave in. Not until he has what he wants.

She comes with a cry. Harder than she has in a while.

\--

Her hair is still wet when she knocks on her mother’s door.

She looks tired. As impeccable as always. 

“Can you brush my hair?” Rey asks. Her own voice sounds foreign. 

Her mother frowns. “I was just about to go to bed.” 

Rey steps inside. “Then I will brush yours." 

She looks at Rey. Doesn’t say anything. Then she nods and moves to her dresser. Hands Rey her brush. 

She starts to go through the motions, slowly.

“I guess I never really brushed your hair, did I?” her mother says. Rey stays quiet. 

“There are a lot of things we never did. I think you just always-” 

Her eyes meet Rey’s in the mirror. She looks down at her hands. 

“You were always very independent. Even as a child. And then your father. The two of you were inseparable. All you cared about was hunting. And if you ever needed me to be there for you, wanted a mother in your life, then I never knew about that. You never showed me.” 

She sighs. “But I’m sorry I never asked.” 

Rey still doesn’t say anything. Just pushes the brush down, down, down. Moves it up again through the air. Mechanically. She listens to the sound of her mother’s hair running through the bristles. 

There’s something else. Her mother’s phone is lying on her bed. Her headphones are still plugged in. 

Rey hears the low hum of music. It’s _Summer Wine_.

“I saw you and Ben. The other night.” She’s careful to say it without any emotion. 

She feels her mother look at her in the mirror. Rey keeps her eyes firmly on the task in front of her. 

“I didn’t hear you. I don’t like it when you sneak up on me like that.” 

She takes a deep breath when Rey doesn’t respond. 

“And I don’t know,” she says slowly, “what you think you saw. But it definitely wasn’t like whatever you’re imagining right now.”

Rey hums, still focused on her mother’s hair. 

“You know, I think I get it now. Why he went hunting with a little girl,” she says, quiet and soft. She sighs. “I understand what he did. What he was trying to, at least.” 

She looks at the mirror and smiles. 

“I know what he wanted to keep me from. What he thought he could prevent.” 

Rey has stopped moving the brush. 

Her mother stares at her. Her eyes are big. Her nostrils flared. She’s biting her bottom lip so hard that it’s turning white. 

She looks absolutely terrified. 

“I’m going to bed now,” she says. Daring Rey to do something. She doesn’t. 

“I’ll clean out your father’s study tomorrow. Get rid of all the things we don’t need anymore.”

\--

Rey wakes up early, on purpose. She assumes her mother won’t be up until noon.

She puts on a dark dress. It’s a day for mourning. She feels too big for her white dresses. 

She enters her father’s study with long strides. It looks empty without him. Wrong. 

Rey wonders what her mother will do with the room. 

She goes through cabinets at random. Doesn’t find anything worth keeping. It’s all pictures and trinkets and stationery. Things you can buy anywhere. 

She never realized how little she really knew about him. Nothing personal. There aren’t any memories for her in this room. 

Until- 

The bottom drawer underneath his desk is locked. Her heart beats faster. 

She knows the key will fit. 

It opens with the hint of a _click_. She struggles to control her breathing. Pulls. 

She sees a gun. Black and beautiful. She weighs it against her hand. It’s loaded. She lets it drop to the ground. 

There’s more to explore for now. Two paper boxes, brown and old. One small, the other large. She takes the smaller one. 

Inside, there is a stack of photographs. She recognizes her father straight away. He’s staring back at her with a toothy grin, maybe nine or ten years old. There’s a toddler by his side. _Ben_. 

When she goes to look at the other pictures, something slides to the floor. 

Her father’s head, over and over again. Small little cut-outs from different photos. Always smiling. There are dozens of them. 

She swallows, puts them back into the box. She can see Ben and her father grow up through the years. When she gets to her father as a teenager, there’s a baby in his arms. A third brother. 

She flips through the pictures after that. Sees him as a toddler, just learning to walk. 

And then nothing. Only her father is left. 

The other box contains letters, bound together by an old piece of string. She slides it off. They’re all addressed to her. 

Rey looks around. Walks over to the window and peers into the garden. Nobody. She closes the blinds anyway. 

She rips open one of the letters, at random.

> __
> 
> February 14, 2009
> 
> _Dear Rey,_
> 
> _It’s Valentine’s Day!_
> 
> _We both know I’m not one for kitsch and romance, but there is something about good old Saint Valentine that always brings a smile to my lips. I can’t help it. A day reserved for the lovers of the world. That’s just poetic.  
>  Do you have a lover, Rey? I imagine you do. A nice boy (or girl, perhaps?) with whom you are spending the day. Maybe they gave you flowers at school. With a card in your locker. Is that still how people do it these days? You must forgive your uncle, it has been a while since I was last inside a school.  
>  Maybe you’re having a movie date tonight. I’m forced to admit that I don’t follow mainstream American cinema very much at the moment. I’m still in Paris, after all. The French know how to make their movies. And there are more theaters than I count, in just my quartier alone. (That’s French for quarter. Your foreign word for this time.)  
>  Being in Paris on this day really is something else. This city can already feel like a dream or an illusion on any given day, but all the love in the air makes it even more so. It is the city of love.  
>  I wish you could see it. I often long for your company, imagine how it would be to have you here with me. Sharing the view from my miniature balcony as we gaze onto one of the most beautiful, mesmerizing and enthralling cities on the planet.  
>  I am sure it will become reality one day. It is this knowledge that keeps me sane, Rey. Thinking of you is my only constant.  
>  You know I don’t mind that you never reply to any of my letters. I have said that I take whatever it is you choose to give me and I stand by my word. But it is days like these that I feel the hole in my chest grow deeper. The suspense is agonizing.  
>  It won’t be soon, but we will see each other. Not for a few years, sadly. But you can rest assured that our paths will cross. I hope you will be prepared. I, for one, already am.  
>  I’ll leave you to it now. I’m sure you have important business to take care of. I can’t imagine the hardships that life has in store for teenage girls. _
> 
> _Lovingly and longingly,  
>  Benjamin Solo_

At the bottom, there’s a drawing of the Eiffel Tower.

Rey grabs another one.

> __
> 
> June 5, 2000
> 
> _To the loveliest six-year-old on the planet:_
> 
> _Dear Rey,_
> 
> _I can’t believe it’s your birthday already. Again! It seems to me that you turned five only weeks ago. But in reality, a whole year has passed.  
>  You must be so big already. Almost as tall as your mom, I’m sure.  
>  Oh, Happy Birthday! I forgot to say. I could rewrite the letter, of course, but I feel more honest when what I send you is my first and only draft. Writing you is simply the medium we find ourselves bound to and I want our interactions to be as organic as possible. That means I tell you everything that comes to my mind. I imagine you’d do the same.  
>  Your father has informed me that you’ll be starting school soon. You’re growing so fast that it almost scares me. (I could swear it was yesterday that you took your very first steps.)  
>  I assume you’ll take to formal education. It’s tedious, spending years building the basics before you can become intellectually competent. I don’t worry about you, though. You’re the smartest little girl in the entire world.  
>  One day we’ll read books together, Rey. Long ones with big, complicated words. And you won’t stumble over them, you’ll smile at me with your bright eyes, full of wonder. Never lose your curiosity.  
>  I hope you will get along with your peers. It’s important to have meaningful connections to others. Friendship and romance are what keeps us humans alive. But don’t forget about family. Don’t forget about me. You’re always on my mind.  
>  I bet you’re wondering where I am at the moment. I’ll give you a hint: It’s very far away. And hot.  
>  It’s Africa. Amazing, I know. I’ve always thought of Africa as a made-up place. A continent that only exists in dreams and stories. But I can assure you, it’s very real.  
>  I’m in South Africa, Johannesburg to be exact. It looks nothing like how I imagined. But it’s beautiful, still.  
>  I visit the Johannesburg Art Gallery every other day, there is so much to see. It’s the largest gallery on the African continent, you know. The art is marvelous. You would love it. Maybe we’ll see it together one day. I am nothing if not hopeful.  
>  I have a wonderful foreign word for you. It’s hartlam, an Afrikaans term of endearment. It really means heart-lamb and isn't that fantastic? You can use it to refer to someone who is so very dear to you, like a small, vulnerable lamb lying close to your heart. It’s a lovely little metaphor.  
>  You might have already guessed it, but you are my hartlam, Rey. You’ll always be.  
>  Now, I hope you found my present. By now it’s not a surprise anymore, but I am confident you enjoy both the search and the reward. I’m sure they suit you very well. You’ll look nice and proper on your first day of school.  
>  I don’t want to keep you any longer, I’ve already taken up much of your precious time. _
> 
> _Have a delightful birthday,  
>  Your loving uncle_

This one is followed by a detailed map of Africa, sketched with a pencil.

> __
> 
> January 1, 2007
> 
> _To my Favorite (and only) Niece,_
> 
> _Happy New Year!_
> 
> _It’s exhilarating when a year passes, isn’t it? I am drunk on the party spirit all around me. And maybe also on champagne. But only a little, I promise.  
>  I’m sorry I didn’t write you this Christmas, but everything was so hectic here. I am still in Italy, but I moved to Florence in the middle of December. A stupid idea, really. But a breathtaking city.  
>  Particularly right now, in winter. There aren’t so many tourists everywhere and the air doesn’t suffocate me anymore. I think I am in love with Italy like this, gentle and kind.  
>  I don’t do well in crowds. I’m sure you don’t, either. It’s in our nature, the way we perceive things. We see everything. Hear everything. It’s a curse most of the time, when you can’t stop listening to all the noise around you. Most of it is so insignificant and trivial. But it can be a good thing as well. Trust me. I have seen many things that others were trying to hide from me and I dare say my life is better for it. You’ll get to experience that, too. One day.  
>  This time, your foreign word is Sehnsucht. It’s German for desire, longing, craving, or yearning. It’s hard to translate exactly. It would literally mean “seeing-addiction” today, but a German friend of mine has told me that “sucht” here comes from a Middle High German word for pain or sickness. So it is “seeing-pain”. I want you to know it so I can tell you I am full of Sehnsucht for you. It’s eating me alive.  
>  (I realized that so many of the last words were Italian and I thought I should change things around. Gotta keep you on your toes.)  
>  I want you to have a great 2007, Rey. A better year than the last. The best year of your life. This is your time and I hope you can enjoy it as much as possible. Nothing gives me more joy than knowing you’re happy and safe. Even without me.  
>  I’m afraid to cut this short, I have a celebration to get back to. (Sorry!) I want to tell you so much about Florence, the entire city is like a museum. Every day I find a new thing to look at for hours at a time. You’ll hear about it in the next letter, I promise!!_
> 
> _Apologetically,  
>  Ben_

There are others, so many of them. Sent from Barcelona, Athens, Cologne, Rio de Janeiro, Reykjavik, Kyoto, Havana, Amsterdam, Santiago, New Delhi, Sydney, Toronto, Saint Petersburg.

The words blur in front of Rey. Her cheeks are wet, she realizes. There are stains on the letters she opened. She’s crying.

\--

She walks up the stairs, careless and distracted.

She only notices that she’s been dropping letters when she’s already on the last step. 

She turns around, picks one up. Sees the back for the first time. There’s a small stamp. Red ink on white paper. 

_Rarlech Institute_ , it says. 

She lets it fall, flips over another. 

_Rarlech Institute_

Another. 

_Rarlech Institute_

Another. 

_Rarlech Institute_

Every single one of them.

\--

On a whim, she dials the number for the Sheriff’s Office. She gets put on hold.

Ben appears in the window. He’s standing in the garden, grinning at her. 

He’s wearing the sunglasses. 

One of his hands holds a pair of pruning shears. He waves. 

“Hello?” a voice on the phone says. 

She hangs up.

\--

She waits for him at the top of the staircase. His duffle bag lies next to her feet.

Ben walks through the door. He stops when he sees her. 

The way he looks at her makes something stir inside her stomach. Something bad.

“My father had a pair of sunglasses just like that one,” she says. He’s frozen in place.

“I’m sure they’re completely destroyed now. Must have been crushed and melted in the accident.” 

He doesn't say anything. Starts moving, slowly, towards the stairs. 

“You know how I know?” He shakes his head. Puts one foot on the first step. 

“Because he always kept them in the glove compartment of his car.” 

\--

“Do you want to know what happened to your father?” he asks her when he reaches the middle of the staircase.

“I want to know what happened to my uncle.” 

It takes a second for him to understand.

\--

_Your father and I were close as children. I loved him very much. He loved me back, just as much. At least until Jonathan was born._

_That year was particularly bad. Jonathan had learned how to climb stairs and your father was delighted. Watching him and helping him go up and down. Up and down._

_I wanted him to help me with my homework, like before. He was so smart, such a good teacher. But he wanted to spend his time with Jonathan now._

_We had construction works in our garden that summer. Jonathan would play on the slide nearby. Climb up the ladder and slide down again. His laughter made my head hurt. I don’t know if I hated him, per se. He was my brother as well. But he took your father away from me. He always did._

_They dug a hole. Just big enough so that a toddler wouldn’t be able to climb out. There weren’t any stairs for him to show off his skills._

_After digging a hole, someone fills it up again. And so they did. There he went._

_And then there_ I _went, into the Rarlech Institute. It’s better than it sounds, being locked up. My father made a generous donation. I was allowed a very good education there. Teachers from France. A massive library. A piano in my room._

_I didn’t go when my time was done. I set my own release date. I told them to ask your father to pick me up._

_He didn’t hug me. Didn’t ask how I was doing. We drove for a while, and then he stopped._

_He had droven a car out, for me, our father’s favorite. He gave me a map of New York. He told me he’d gotten me an apartment. He handed me money._

_At first, I didn’t understand. I wanted to come with him, to see you. Finally, after waiting for so long._

_He told me that he still loved me. But that he had to love me a little bit less now. That he couldn’t have me near his Rey. His family._

_I told him that I was his family._

_I got out of the car. I had to throw up. Outside, I saw a rock, sharp and heavy._

_I told him I had to love him a little bit less now._

\--

“Why now?” is the only thing she says when he’s done. He’s walked up to the top of the staircase.

He smiles. 

“Don’t you remember?” he asks. “What day was it, when your father had the accident?” 

She stays very still. “My eighteenth birthday.” 

“I was waiting for that,” he whispers. “Everything I’ve ever done was for you, Rey.” 

She can’t help but believe him. 

He reaches for his bag, takes out the box. 

He pulls on the ribbon, slowly, lets it fall open. Draws it out. 

He lifts the lid. 

Inside, there is a pair of high heels. Crocodile leather. Shoes for a woman. 

Ben kneels in front of her. She holds her breath. 

He sets them next to her feet and unlaces the shoes she’s wearing. 

One by one, he slips her feet out of her old shoes and into her new ones. He holds her feet like they’re delicate little things. No one has touched her there before. 

She’s taller when he's done. Grown-up in just a few seconds. 

The shoes fit like they were made for her.

“Happy Birthday,” he says into her legs. She shivers.

\--

There’s a knock at the door.

They both flinch. 

She walks down the stairs in her new shoes, her new life. She doesn’t stumble. He follows with some distance. 

“We were told that you might have been the last person to see Poe Dameron?” the Sheriff asks after they let him inside. 

Rey frowns. “Maybe?” she says. “I saw him last night, but not for long. We were both pretty tired.” She looks at him. “Why? Did something happen?” 

He sighs. “Well, that’s the question right now. He didn’t come home and his motorcycle is still where he left it before talking to you. According to his friends.” 

She nods, slowly. Like she’s processing it. “Yeah,” she says. “That’s- that’s right. We ran into each other in, uh, the parking lot. And he wanted to stay behind and-” She swallows, looks to the ground. “Well, we talked a little. Hung out.” 

He takes out a notepad and a pencil. “Right.” He clears his throat. “So far, we don’t even know if a crime happened at all. Teenage boys disappear all the time. And then they come back.” He laughs, forced. His eyes shoot to Ben, towering behind her.

“This is- a routine situation where I just want to know when all of that took place. Maybe someone saw you at the diner. Maybe you went inside and ate something. Maybe you still have the bill.” 

Rey’s mouth opens. Closes again. 

“I, uh-” 

“It was ten, wasn’t it? When I picked you up.” Ben sounds bored, quiet. 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” the Sheriff asks. 

“Benjamin Solo,” he says. “I’m Rey’s uncle.” 

He gets a nod in response. The Sheriff scribbles something. Motions with his hand to keep going.

“There was a recorded performance of _Giselle_ on TV at, uh, quarter past. We missed the first couple of minutes, but it couldn’t have been much later.” 

“And did you see Mr. Dameron as well?” 

Ben runs a hand through his hair. “Sure. He told me he liked my car. Then he said he’d go get his motorcycle.” He nods to himself. “I offered to give him a ride, it was kinda late already. But he said no. So we left.” 

She doesn’t know if he buys it. It sounds good to her ears. 

“’Kay. Well, as I said, I’m sure he’ll be back. Please call if you remember anything else.”

They nod in unison. Step forward at the same time. 

“Oh and _Giselle_? Is that an opera?” He looks at Rey.

“A ballet,” she says, presses her lips together. 

He nods. He’s almost out the door when he turns around again. Looks at them with a strange look in his eyes. 

“Your housekeeper never came back, did she?” 

Rey shakes her head. “No, she didn’t.”

\--

They stand next to each other on the steps. Watch the car drive through the gate.

“He’ll be back,” he says. He’s right, Rey thinks. 

“What are we going to do?” she asks. Her mind is blank. 

She turns to him. 

“You’ll love New York,” he says. He sounds unsure. Anxious

“When are we leaving?” He smiles. 

“Tomorrow.” 

She leans forward, just an inch. He doesn’t draw back. 

Instead, he raises a hand to her neck. It feels cool on her skin. Soothing. 

Her eyes drop to his lips. For the first time. They look good, so good on his face. Just right. 

She only needs a little bit more, almost there. She can’t think about what she’s going to do. 

Behind them, there’s a sound. Her mother is awake. 

They fly apart.

\--

They sit down next to each other. Hip to hip. Thigh to thigh.

He waits for her to start, be the first to press the keys. So she does. 

It feels different. Last time was a battle. Now it’s symbiosis. 

She feels everything more clearly. The world is sharper with him next to her. Touching her body, even if it’s just by default. 

She knows her mother is watching. She plays better for it.

\--

Her mother takes a sip from her wine.

“You know,” she starts. Twirls the glass in her hand. 

“It took me a long time to understand why we even have children. When they’re nothing but a problem for the rest of your life.” She sighs. 

“But I think I get it now. At a certain point your life becomes futile. You’ve fucked it up beyond recognition. So you think you can start over. Give the world a new life that can make different choices. A better version, younger and full of opportunities. Full of a different kind of spirit. A re-imagining of your own life. But you know, Rey-” 

She turns to look at her. Rey stands in the doorway, silently. 

“I don’t think I want to see you succeed in the ways that I couldn’t. Personally, I can’t wait to watch life tear you apart.” 

Rey doesn’t say anything. Swallows. 

“You should have loved me,” her mother whispers. “That was the plan. Unconditional love. Fucking family.” 

She gets up. The chair screeches over the floor. 

She walks out into the hall, looks at Ben. 

He’s still sitting on the bench. Legs crossed, leaning back against the piano. He looks composed. The calm before the storm. 

“Can I have a word with you?” her mother asks, already on her way to the staircase.

“Rey,” Ben calls. “Go and pack a small bag. We’ll be leaving shortly.” 

He gets up and follows her mother. He starts to whistle. 

Rey listens to the footsteps. The door to her mother’s room opens and closes. 

She rushes into her father’s study, grabs a bag. His gun. 

She’s about to run upstairs to get clothes when her mother says, muffled, “I can’t let you do this.”

She says, “I know what you did. Luke tried to tell me. He’s gone now.” 

Rey hears footsteps and footsteps and footsteps. 

Silence. 

Then Ben says, “Come with me.”

\--

Her mother screams.

Ben shouts her name. Once, twice. 

She can hear the sounds of a fight, her mother struggles. Chokes. 

“Come here!” He sounds breathless.

She throws any piece of clothing she can find into the bag. 

“Rey, come here now!”

Ben growls. He’s never been angry around her before. This is what it must have been like for her father. Just before he died. 

Gun in hand, Rey walks upstairs. Opens the door to her mother’s room. 

They’re lying on the ground, Ben on top of her. She's trying to crawl away. Her hand is almost at her bedpost. 

Ben grins when he sees Rey. Feral and mad. 

She steps closer and cocks the gun.

She closes her eyes. 

Shoots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lajL0EHyTs) is (part of) the shoe scene  
> ...never mind that this seems to be a foot fetish channel... ~~I'm not sure how I feel about that~~  
>  I kept my own version of that p short because feet make me uncomfortable and I felt like I couldn’t do the sensuality (and perviness) of the original scene justice… it’s all about the symbolism anyway, right?  
>   
> Also: I’m kinda sorry about doing this to Poe because it's so much more graphic than the other murders (at least in this fic, lol) but y'all know what you clicked on here  
> 


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected because it turns out if you never do anything for your online classes, there will come a time when you have a shit ton to do just to catch up with everything >:( but here it is now, hope you enjoy (:

The shot is loud. 

It rings in her ears for what feels like hours. Longer than anytime she shot something while hunting. Then again, this is a very different kind of hunt.

She hears a laugh, quiet and relieved. She steadies herself, turns around, and runs.

\--

They don’t leave that night.

\--

She’s outside on the grass when he finds her, eating strawberries. Her fingers are stained, watery-red and sticky. She doesn’t bother wiping her mouth. She thinks she must look a little mad.

When she opens her eyes, he’s standing over her, nothing but a silhouette against the sunlight. 

“We should really leave now,” is what he says, but he drops down on his knees next to her. He’ll get grass stains on his pants, she thinks. Ugly green-brown patches of wet on his cream-colored slacks. They have enough money to buy new ones every day. 

Rey stays very still. Looks at him, _really looks_ for the first time. He’s pretending to be in control right now. Like he’s a big tough man who has it all figured out. But he knows nothing, he’s waiting, desperate for her to give him any kind of direction. 

She doesn’t know anything either. But she’s good at playing pretend. 

She stretches and lets her legs slip open. Just the tiniest bit. She’s not wearing a dress today. 

She found one of her mother’s blouses, silk with a flower print, mature. Adult. So ugly it’s almost pretty again. It fits just right. The yellow stands out stark against her skin. She likes it. Her skirt is brown and suede, held up by her father’s belt. She’s not herself today. Doesn’t know who that person was. 

She said goodbye to the old Rey the day that her father died. This is her new favorite version of herself. She just doesn’t fully understand it yet.

Ben reaches out to her, carefully puts one hand on her bare skin, slides it up towards her thigh. She shivers in the morning sun. There’s electricity in his touch. 

His fingers are soft and light, but she feels every movement like he’s scratching into her skin with a knife. She likes the thought of him leaving his mark on her. 

She smiles. 

“This was never my home,” she says. “I don’t have a home,” she says. “I don’t know where to go,” she says. 

He puts his other hand on her neck, strokes the side of her face. She closes her eyes again. She’s waiting for something. But she doesn’t know if he’ll do it this time. 

She feels good like this. His hands are strong and heavy on her skin. He keeps moving his fingers a little, up and down. Up and down. The sound is loud in her ears, though it’s nothing more than a soft _shhhh-shhhh-shhhh-shhhh_. Up and down. 

“New York is a good start. The apartment your father got for me is big enough for the both of us.”

He leans down. “And when we’re bored we can just throw a pin at a globe,” he whispers against her neck. 

Rey shakes her head, makes him loosen his grip. 

In that moment, all she feels is _Ben_ , there’s no room for any other thought. 

His smell is all around her, rich and solid. Blocking her from the rest of the world. Trapping her inside a new prison, one of her own choosing now. She doesn’t think she wants to break out. Could stay here forever with him, frozen in time in the garden. 

“I don’t own a globe,” she says quietly. She doesn’t feel like she owns anything anymore. Except for Ben, maybe. That’s a nice thought. Powerful. She sinks deeper into his touch again. 

He drops a kiss on her cheek, open-mouthed and wet.

“That’s okay,” he says, nearly silent. “We can buy one.” 

She opens her eyes to watch him. It’s almost disgusting how love-sick he looks. His cheeks are so red, his eyes only half-open. He’s a wreck. All for her. She grins. 

“You’re fucking desperate,” she says under her breath. She doesn’t curse very much. Ben brings it out in her. He brings everything to light.

He frowns. Awkwardly, he lies down next to her. Keeps his hands on her body. 

His face is so close. She could taste him if she tilted her head just an inch. But she won’t. 

“Kiss me,” she says instead. Matter-of-fact. 

Before he can do anything, she pushes his face away. “Somewhere it doesn’t count.” 

He laughs, low and almost nasty. 

“It’s going to count anywhere,” he says into her ear and moves his mouth to her neck.

It’s not chaste. Not that she expected that. But she didn’t think it would feel this good. 

Just his mouth, lips and tongue spreading his spit over her skin like paint with a brush. She likes being his canvas. Wants to see him paint her red.

He’s not only licking, though. He sucks so hard on her throat that it makes squelching noises whenever he pulls off. 

Rey pants. Sighs. Groans. Fists her hand into his hair and pulls on all the strands she can get her fingers on. He moans against her neck. 

She presses his face deeper into her skin. That shuts him up. 

He starts biting her, leaves a trail of marks down to her collarbone. She moans, startled. 

He does it again and again, harder and sharper each time. It hurts so good.

For a long time she feels like she’s floating. Just drifting on that wave of pleasure, Ben’s teeth sending her deeper and deeper into a trance. Maybe she’d like him to hurt her more, she thinks. Everything’s a little hazy in her head. Maybe she wants to hurt him back. 

Then he starts sucking again. It’s sloppy and loud. He makes her feel filthy. Slowly, she comes back down to earth.

“You’re just,” she swallows, breathing heavily, “a dirty old man, aren’t you? A pervert, just waiting for me to say that it’s okay.” 

Her legs spasm at her own words. She presses her knees together. Clenches the walls of her pussy and feels the sensation ripple through her body. She imagines she must be pretty wet already. 

He nods, frantically. She lets go of his hair a little and he comes up for air. Looks into her eyes as he opens the buttons on her blouse. 

Rey feels like her heart stops for a second. This is new territory. 

She lets the back of her head fall against the ground. 

Ben seems to notice the change in her. His fingers stop what they’re doing. Both of his hands travel up to her neck, frame her face. 

“Tell me what you want,” he says. It’s stern. He’d sound authoritative if it wasn’t a command to be commanded. 

Rey stays still. She sighs. 

“Do you think I know what I want?” She tries to sound teasing, but it comes out shaky and rough.

Ben studies her face, his eyes land on her lips.

“I think you’re scared of what you want.” 

She breathes in and out, slowly. Doesn’t closer her mouth again, just stares at him. He’s so beautiful that it hurts. Somewhere deep down inside her stomach. A wound that won’t heal. 

She licks over her lips. He follows the movement, captivated. 

“What do _you_ want?” she whispers and holds her breath. She doesn’t know if she wants to hear his answer. If she’d be strong enough to deny him anything. 

He smiles. Then he leans down to nuzzle her cheek. She laughs, unexpected and honest. 

“I want whatever you want to give me.” 

Rey frowns. “That’s not an answer. Not really.” 

He shrugs. Shoots one last look to her lips before turning onto his back. He folds his hands on top of his stomach and watches the sky.

“I want you to be happy, Rey.” His voice is quiet, not much more than a whisper.

She feels something cruel twist inside her. She doesn’t think she knows how to be happy. Not without ruining everything around her. 

“If I can help you be happy, then I’ll do that. If not, then I’ll leave. But I don’t think you want me to leave.” 

She shakes her head, softly. “You’re the only family I have left,” she says. 

She hadn’t thought about that before, but it’s true. Twisted and wrong as it may be.

“I’m glad you feel that way about me.” 

It sounds dirty even though it shouldn’t. But everything he says, everything he does has an air of eroticism that she doesn’t know how to explain. Ben is an enigma to her. A deep well of puzzles that she’s only begun solving days ago. It’ll take time to get to the bottom of him.

“Can you touch me again?” she asks after a moment of silence. 

He grins. It’s sleazy, but probably on purpose, she thinks. 

When he doesn’t do anything after that, she reaches out and grabs his hand. Puts it back on her thigh where it was before. (Where it belongs.) Instead of keeping it there, he moves it up, slowly but surely. 

Rey sighs into the touch. 

She lets her eyes slip shut. Her back even arches a little, enjoying how it feels to have him touch her like that.

Until- 

Oh. 

His hand is no longer on her thigh. It’s trying to slip inside her panties now. 

Her legs slide open further and further until there’s something in the way. Ben. She bends her knee a little and pushes it into his crotch. He’s already straining against his pants. 

He groans at the contact. It’s so ridiculously easy to get a reaction out of him, she realizes. She pushes harder. 

Rey has never seen a real dick before, let alone touched one. Even palming Ben’s through his pants like this feels like the most alien thing she’s ever done. It’s nice, though, she thinks she’s doing a good job. She imagines he can’t have much to compare it to. 

“Are you a virgin?” she asks as his fingers are slowly making their way towards her opening. 

He stops. “Virginity is a social construct, darling.” 

She hits him in the chest, almost a reflex. 

“You really like giving stupid answers.” 

He grins. 

“I sure do.” He pulls back his hands, folds them and sets them on her knee. “I’ve never had sex before. But I’ve done other things with nurses and guards at the institute.” 

Rey can’t help but look surprised. Ben shrugs. 

“I’m very charming when I want to be.” She can’t argue with that. 

She hums and looks at his face. There are droplets of sweat on his forehead. His hair is a mess. He looks delicious. 

She holds eye-contact with him as she reaches under her skirt. Tries to pull down her panties with as much finesse as possible. His mouth goes slack, eyes glaze over, cheeks flush darker. 

The amount of power she has over him makes her feel giddy. 

Before she can fling them away, Ben snatches her panties out of her hand. They’re plain cotton, baby blue with just a hint of a lace trim. 

He examines them with a smile, lost in thought. There’s an obvious damp patch in the middle that his eyes are drawn to. He shoots Rey a look that she doesn’t quite understand. Then he brings them to his face and inhales. 

Rey clenches her fists so hard her nails dig into her palms. Her whole body is vibrating. Maybe the power goes both ways. She likes that.

“You smell so good, Rey.” His voice breaks and he squeezes his eyes shut. 

She bites her lip. Her chest feels like it’s going to explode. 

She hikes up her skirt and stretches her arms over her head. Waits. It’s his turn now.

He folds her panties, gently, slips them into his pocket. Rey presses her teeth together to keep herself from making a sound. 

It’s like a trophy. Proof that this really happened. She lets him have it. They can buy her new nice things. 

“Rey,” he says, soft and sober. She looks at him with expectation in her eyes. Bated breath, heart beating faster. 

“I’m going to put my finger inside you now.” She swallows. They can both hear it, loud and clear.  
“Is that alright?” 

Her mouth opens. Nothing comes out. 

She wants to say yes, wants to beg for it. Tell him how much she has been thinking about his hands, not only on her skin, but _inside_. Her most intimate nooks and crannies. She wants to tell him she’ll go mad if he doesn’t do anything soon. But all she can do is nod.

He sits up and pushes her legs wider apart. She hooks one over his lap and he wraps his hands around her ankle. Slides them up, up, up again until he reaches her pubic hair. 

He takes his time to run his finger through it, makes little circles, twirls the strands together. Rey trembles. Everywhere. 

Without warning, he pushes one finger inside. 

“You’re so wet, baby,” he whispers, surprised. “All for me?” 

Rey sighs and bites her tongue. “No,” she says, stubborn. 

He laughs from above her and she closes her eyes. Leaves everything to him. 

It’s very different from doing it to herself. She doesn’t know what he’s going to do next, has to be patient if she wants it to feel good. And she does, she wants to feel good so badly. 

He adds a second finger and slips them in and out, in and out. There’s no real rhythm to it, just a soft little _squish_ noise every time he pulls them out. 

He watches them with fascination, observes how they glisten in the sunlight. Brings them up to her face. 

She doesn’t want to. Really tries not to. She breathes in, deeply. It’s not like she doesn’t know what her own juices smell like. She’s been masturbating since she was eleven.

But now it’s mixed with _him_. It messes with her head. His smell makes her go crazy.

He pushes them back in with force. Fucks her with them. She moans, almost unconsciously. They’re so long. The angle feels just right. 

She thinks she’s falling in love when he adds a third one and starts twisting them. She doesn’t feel full, not quite yet. But it’s already so much more than she’s ever taken on her own. 

He’s fumbling around a little, thumb searching for her clit. If this was anyone else, Rey thinks she’d reach down to do it herself. But if it was anyone else, this wouldn’t be happening. 

So she just gasps and tries to stay still. He’ll manage. 

His other hand shoots up and grabs at her chest. She’s wearing a bra underneath the blouse. It’s a soft one, wires but no cups. He groans and kneads her left boob like he’s trying to crush it. 

It’s uncomfortable at first, his grip so tight, relentless. He’s very strong when he wants to be. 

He keeps the up the fast rhythm of _in-out-in-out-in-out-in-out_ as he opens her belt and yanks the blouse out of her skirt. Unbuttons it all the way.

She can hear him laugh at the way she squirms, exposed now. He folds up the belt and slides it over her arms and stomach, all the way up to her throat. 

He leans down to her face. 

“We killed someone with this,” he breathes into her ear. He says it like it’s nothing. Nonchalant, just a fact. A reality that they didn’t have any influence on. 

Rey’s eyelids flutter, but stay closed. Her breathing gets faster. 

She nods. He’s right, he’s always right. He knows what to say. It’s in his nature somehow. Maybe it’s in hers, too. 

Maybe she should be scared, but she can’t make herself. It’s so much easier to trust Ben. He wouldn’t hurt her. Unless she asked him to, she thinks with something sick coiling in her stomach. 

He lays the belt next to her hands so she can feel it with her fingertips. Trust. He drops a kiss on her chin. 

She shakes her head. It’s too close to her mouth, too real, too much right now. She ignores the voice in her head that reminds her that his fingers are buried inside her cunt. 

She groans and pushes down, meets him halfway. His fingers must be drenched by now. He grins into her throat. Mouths at her skin. 

Pushes deeper and deeper into her. It sounds obscene, the way she’s leaking onto his fingers. 

She feels hot where he’s touching her. Burning up in the best way. 

He pinches her nipple with his free hand and she flinches. Moans quietly. There’s so much happening. The way he rolls it between his fingertips is sending sparks through her body. 

It’s wrong that he’s so good at this, she thinks. His thumb pushes down on her clit. 

She holds onto the belt as she clamps down on his fingers. The leather feels solid and real. She’s close, almost there. 

“What-,” she pants, “what did you do with her body?” 

He stops moving for half a second. Recovers quickly. 

“I wrote a note in her handwriting saying she killed everyone. It looks like a suicide now.” 

She whimpers. It sounds desperate and pathetic and exactly how she feels inside. She’s never felt this much at once.

She knows it’s his voice that will push her over the edge. Waits for him to say something else. 

“No one will be onto us, Rey. We’re free.”

\--

His eyes are closed. Peaceful and serene. She smiles. He’s hers now.

She drops a kiss on his earlobe and he stirs. Doesn’t open his eyes. Turns his face towards her. 

She swallows. Waits. 

He pushes up. Without looking, his mouth finds hers. 

It’s harsher than she would have thought. But nice. 

She kisses back in an instant, hungry and a little crazy. Ben makes her feel feral. She hopes she does the same to him. 

He fists his hand in her hair and pulls her off. 

“Am I better?” she asks with a tremble in her voice. She has to know. 

Ben doesn’t understand. He searches her face and drops a kiss on her forehead. 

“Better than what?” he asks, frowning. 

She hides her face in his neck. “Better than her,” she whispers. 

There’s a moment of silence, only a second, before he starts laughing. “I don’t know.” 

She looks up at him. 

“You don’t know?” 

He shakes his head and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. His smile has no sharp edges, none of his usual charm. It’s only for her. Private and confidential. Hers alone. 

“I wasn’t paying attention to her.”

\--

She’s wearing the sunglasses. They look good, the way they frame her face.

She had to sweet-talk him into giving them to her. It’s the only thing she has left from her father. The belt doesn’t count. 

It’s tied to Ben. Just like she is. Inseparable. Connected. 

They’re family.

\--

The road is long and empty. It’s like they’re in a movie.

The wind feels cold in her hair, blowing the sweat out of her face. It’s a hot day, but it doesn’t feel stifling. It’s freeing somehow. Cleansing them. Rey doesn’t feel dirty anymore. 

She’s fine. She smiles against the sun. She’s going to be fine. 

Ben looks calm. Composed. It should worry her, she thinks. His quietness should feel dangerous and unpredictable. It doesn’t. 

She could get used to this, sitting next to him in the car. It feels like it’s right, like she belongs. 

She slips off her shoes and folds her legs underneath herself. The parts where her calves touch her thighs are going to be drenched in sweat in just seconds. It’s worth it, though. 

His hand will have to brush her knee if he reaches for the gearshift. She closes her eyes. 

There’s a song on the radio that she doesn’t recognize. He hums along, low and quiet. 

“We’re going to be in New York,” Rey whispers. She says it so that it becomes real. It’s hard to believe, surreal in a way that the past days haven’t been. Everything else feels solid, but this, them running away together, is like a fever dream. She doesn’t think she wants to wake up. It’s nice to fantasize. 

Ben doesn’t stop humming. He changes lanes. It looks effortless, but maybe he’s putting on a show for her. He likes to do that with all kinds of boring, mundane things. She doesn’t mind. Likes to indulge him where she can.

“We’re going to be in New York,” he repeats after a while. He sounds happy. Excited even. 

But there’s something in his voice that tells her he doesn’t know if he can believe it either. She’s glad she’s not alone. 

“Together,” she adds. She can almost taste it. 

There’s nothing quite like sharing the experience of being in a new place for the first time with another person. She did it with her father sometimes, visit a town both of them had never been to. Exploring unfamiliar streets, letting instinct lead them where they were meant to go. 

But then, Ben is an unfamiliar place too, she thinks. She tells herself that she knows what’s lurking inside, that he’s shown her part of who he is now. But she can’t be sure. 

“Together,” he agrees. Of course. 

He turns to look at her and smiles. Then he places his hand on her thigh, on top of her skirt, and squeezes. It’s friendly. Reassuring. She’s grateful for the fabric keeping his skin from touching hers. She thinks she’d explode otherwise. His touch is something else. 

She sighs. 

“What are we going to do?” Her voice is serious. Maybe she’s afraid. She doesn’t know. 

“Well,” he starts, slow and thoughtful, “You applied to schools in New York anyway, right? I guess I’ll try to find a job.” 

He’s right. She’s hoping for NYU, has been for a long time. But it doesn’t matter anymore, not really. 

She’d drop her college plans in a heartbeat for him. She won’t, she knows she wants to go study, she’s been waiting so long for college, but she _would_ if it was necessary. If he asked her to. That’s scary, a voice in her mind tells her. So she hopes he doesn’t ask. 

“But it’s not like we really need the money,” he adds, an afterthought. He smiles again and squeezes her leg for the second time. She squirms, can’t help it. She turns her head away, looks at miles and miles of fields that they’re passing by. 

“Could you stop that?” she says under her breath. 

She can hear him grin, but she refuses to look. 

“Why? You changed your mind? Don’t want me to touch you anymore?” 

He’s teasing, but there’s something real in there, too. Anxiety, worry, almost genuine fear. She could hurt him here. If she said no. He’s depending on her to want him, to need him as much as he needs her. If she keeps that in mind, she’ll be fine, she thinks. 

She shrugs. 

“I think I want it too much.” 

It’s a confession. Hushed and unwanted, crawling its way out of her mouth without permission. She almost wishes she hadn’t said it. 

But then it’s worth it because he turns to her and she has to do the same, has to see him look at her like she’s magic, like she’s something to admire, like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen. 

She swallows. It’s a lot to take in, every time. He’s so much and she doesn’t always know how to deal with that. 

After a few seconds of just staring, he turns back to focus on the road. She breathes out, relieved. 

“Really?” He pushes his hair behind his ears. 

They’re so big and so stupid and she wants to bite into the exposed skin of his neck. She’s always wanted to be a vampire. 

She presses her lips together, doesn’t answer his questions. 

Instead she asks, “What are we going to tell people?”

He thinks about it for a couple of seconds. “It’s not that weird to live with your uncle if both of your parents are dead.” 

Rey shivers.

“Or we tell people we’re married. Maybe the age gap’s too big for that, though.. I could be your much older brother then. It’s all up to you, you know.”

Married. They already share the same last name, but- being Mrs. Solo sounds like something from another world. She shakes her head. 

“I don’t know.” 

He nods. “We’ll figure it out.” 

She nods, too. Turns her head and looks at the road behind them. 

They’ll figure it out.

\--

She’s getting bored. They’ve been driving for a while now. She can’t concentrate on her book anymore. The words kind of start to jump up and down on the page, leaving her with nothing but jumbled letters.

“Can we stop?” she asks and puts her shoes back on, in case he says yes. There’s a rest stop coming up. 

“Why?” he says. Not annoyed, just curious. It gives her an idea. 

She licks her lips, lets some tension build. Before she drops the bomb. 

“I wanna suck you off.” 

She can see the moment that Ben’s face blanks, his eyes get all wide and his lips fall open. He breathes in and out, in and out, in and out, through his mouth. She likes doing this to him. 

She’s never felt this wanted before. 

“You’re killing me,” is what he says. 

She smiles. It’s nice to hear him say it. “I try.” 

He laughs, a little forced.

“You sure? You want to give me a blowjob in some dirty rest stop toilet?” 

The worst thing is that it sounds almost hot when he says it. 

“No,” she says, like it’s obvious. Which it should be, really. “In the car. Just not while you’re driving.” 

“Oh.” He nods. Grins a little bit. “Of course.” 

He drives off the highway and parks the car as from the gas station-slash-restaurant as possible. It’s nicely deserted there. 

He turns to look at Rey and her heartbeat speeds up. 

She reaches over and opens his fly. Looks into his eyes as she puts a hand into his briefs.

\--

He approaches them when they’re in the middle of leaving again.

Rey just came back from the toilet and Ben went to the gas station to get some snacks. They’re about to drive away, but then there’s a hand on her shoulder. 

She flinches.

There’s a guy standing next to the car. He can’t be much older than her, maybe in his twenties. His clothes and face are clean, but there’s something uncomfortable about him. Rey isn’t sure what it is. He just smells like trouble.

\--

They agree to let him come along to the next town.

He seems nice at first, but Rey doesn’t like it. The way he looks at her. She can see it in the rearview mirror, how his eyes glide over her face over and over and over again. 

She hopes he doesn’t notice the rifle in the legroom. It’s only covered by one of her dresses, hastily, thoughtless. 

Ben chats with him, mindless small talk. She barely listens to them, tries to focus on her book again, but she can’t help overhearing the things about her. 

Ben tells him he’s her uncle. She crosses her legs and tries to control her breathing. 

He grins at that, sleazy. Their eyes meet in the mirror and Rey flips to the next page with so much force she hears a small _rrrip_. 

Something’s in the air now and she just isn’t sure if Ben doesn’t notice or if he’s playing it cool.

\--

Ben leaves the highway at the first chance he gets after that.

Doesn’t say anything, just drives drives drives drives until he can pull over. 

They’re in the middle of nowhere, some country road that looks like all other country roads Rey’s seen in her life. There’s a stretch of corn fields on either side and not a single soul far and wide. One might even call it idyllic.

It’s getting dark, she thinks, and stretches, angling her body towards both of them. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

“Get out,” Ben says. It’s emotionless, but she can read him like a book. 

The guy’s confused. Doesn’t move. 

“I said get out.” It’s not an order, really. It sounds more like an exasperated parent. Rey presses her tongue against the roof of her mouth, ready for action. Desperate. 

He doesn’t seem to understand that it’s a threat.

“I think you heard him,” Rey says with the hint of a smile in her voice. Always teasing. 

When he still doesn’t do anything, she sighs and starts moving. Gets out of the car and bends over the rear door to grab the rifle. She takes a step back and points it at him. 

She feels tall and in control. Looks at him expectantly.

“Dude, _what the fuck_?” 

He looks like his body doesn’t know how to react. Anger, terror and confusion all mix on his face and Rey wants to laugh. It shouldn’t be this easy. 

He starts to move, slowly opens the door and steps out of the car. She keeps her eyes trained on him, gun steady.

“What the fuck do you guys want?” His voice breaks and he tries to back away, but Ben’s right behind him. It looks good, the way he towers over him. 

“Nothing,” he says, almost into his ear. The guy’s paralyzed. Rey feels like Ben is speaking to her instead. 

“I just didn’t like the way you looked at my niece.” 

She smiles. Takes a step closer. She’s not entirely sure what to do here, though. This is Ben’s plan, she’s just the executioner. 

“How good are you with moving targets?” He looks glassy-eyed and love-struck. He wants to see her in action. Fall deeper into her spell.

Okay then. This is a hunt. 

“Decent,” she says with one eyebrow raised high. 

They both know she’s lying. 

Ben winks at her and leans down. 

With a blinding smile, he whispers, “ _Run_.”

\--

It’s a different kind of giddy.

After Poe, she felt confused. Outside of her own body, absent. 

But she’s never been clearer than now. Her mind is focused, sharp. At the same time, she’s on a high. One that she doesn’t want to come down from again.

“You’re everything I hoped you would be,” Ben says, slowly and so low, so deep, that it’s doing all kinds of things to her body. Then he grabs her hair and yanks her in for a kiss. 

It takes ages before they come up for air. She bites his lip until she can feel his blood in her mouth. It tastes like home.

\--

The motel is cheap but clean.

They give their names as _Mr. and Mrs. Solo_ and she stops breathing for a second. The girl at the front desk gives them a once-over at that, but doesn’t say anything. Somehow that makes it better for Rey. 

He presses her against the door the second they’re inside the room. 

“Do you even know what you do to me, Rey?” he breathes against her throat. 

She squirms and wraps her arms around his neck. 

“I think I have some idea. But I wouldn’t mind another demonstration.” 

He laughs and she thinks she must be wired for him specifically. Everything he does makes her itch and prickle all over her body. 

“You make me crazy,” she tells him while he’s opening her blouse to grab at her breasts. 

He grins up at her. 

“Good.” 

She strokes over his face, needs to feel his skin under her fingertips. Ben reaches under her skirt and pulls down her underwear, fists his hand around her panties until- 

He draws his hand back up and stares at his fingers. The tips are red. 

_Oh_ , she thinks. 

Ben’s perplexed, fascinated with her blood. 

When his eyes meet hers, he looks dazed. Without breaking eye contact, he pushes two fingers inside of her and she moans, unashamed. 

He pulls them out again and brings them up to their faces. There’s not much. Her period has clearly only just begun. But it’s undeniable that his fingers are coated in her blood. He’s about to open his mouth when he shoots her a look. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks, barely a sound at all, and there’s absolutely nothing she can do but nod. Ben looks broken. She wants to preserve this moment for eternity. 

He slips his fingers inside his mouth and closes his eyes. 

“Interesting,” he says, after he’s sucked them clean. 

Rey isn’t sure how to feel about this, can’t think straight right now, so she puts her hands on top of his head and pushes him down to her pussy. 

“Wait.” 

He gets up and stumbles to the bathroom. A second later he emerges with a towel in hand. He spreads it on the bed at the other side of the room and turns to look at her. 

She takes a step towards him and he smiles. For maybe the first time, he looks nice. Friendly. Decent. Everything he’s never been.

He pats the towel, twice, and then kneels down in front of the bed. Rey takes a deep breath, walks over there, and sits down. 

His hands are on her thighs in an instant. He pushes up her skirt and she spreads her legs wider and wider with a sigh. It’s so easy to fall apart for him. 

Just like that, his mouth his on her. 

She thought she knew what he was capable of, what he could do to her, but this- this is another level entirely. 

He’s careful with her clit, but he’s not afraid to suck on her folds, hard and with teeth, he worships every bit of skin on the outside and tries to get as deep on the inside as he can. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ ,” she mumbles and clutches at his hair. 

It’s so much, so good, the feeling so heavy in her belly. She doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t understand how it’s possible that he can do this to her. 

She’s not always sure if he’s even human.

\--

“I think you ruined me,” she says, later, when they’re in the shower together.

The stream is warm and welcoming. They’re both naked, open, vulnerable. Truly see each other.

She touches his dick from time to time. It’s nothing more than a few lazy strokes.

He doesn’t push it. Just drops kisses on her cheeks and shoulders when he feels like it. Washes her hair with the shampoo from her bag. Rinses it out with his big, strong, careful fingers. 

“You’re welcome,” he whispers into her bellybutton and she starts laughing, can’t stop until he distracts her with a real kiss. 

She never wants to taste anything else but him.

\--

They’re lying on the motel bed. It’s surprisingly comfortable.

Her head is on his stomach and his hands are in her hair. She feels so full of emotions, she’s scared to open her mouth. She doesn’t know what would come out. Spill from her lips. 

Ben leans down to her and places his chin on top of her head. Grounds her in the moment. 

“You ruined me, too.” It’s soft and quiet, but it sounds so beautiful to her ears. She wants to record it and play it every day until the end of time. Needs to remind herself of it. Of what he does to her. 

She wants to tell him that she knows, that she can see what she does to him on his face, that there’s nothing subtle about any of this, that she needs him to need her, too. 

Instead, she nuzzles up into his face with a smile.

\--

At night, they fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added some tags because the amount of smut in this _really_ ran away from me… I honestly didn’t plan for all that but I guess the UST overcame me somehow, begging to be resolved
> 
> I really love the original ending of the movie because of the character development (& the visuals !!) and all that, but this is more of what I had in mind for a ship setting… I hope you like it? **pls tell me what you think !**

**Author's Note:**

>   
> I'm very sleep-deprived, so if I missed any typos/other stupid mistakes pls tell me !!  
>  ~~if someone starts a stupid discussion about incest, I will personally cut you off from the internet. This is a work of fiction so that's that~~  
>  not to be annoying, but kudos and comments nourish my soul (:


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